Long Dead
by CheshireGrins
Summary: It is in a moment of rare lucidness that they realize a crushing truth. Hints of 182769


A/N: Aah, ahh... Hope you enjoy it. So tired.

Title: Long Dead

Rating: K+

Pairings/Characters: Mukurou Rokudo, Hibari Kyouya, Sawada Tsunayoshi 18-27-69

Summary: In a rare moment of lucidness, they both realize a crushing truth.

Disclaimer: I do not, under any circumstances (unless those were very _special_ circumstances) own Katekyou Hitman Reborn.

* * *

He couldn't be gone.

Yet, he was.

It was all spelled out with the cruel Italian words on the expensive parchment. Written with the finest black ink. But told him the crudest message. But it was all just a message. He should have expected it. He had been told before hand. So why...

Why had such a message, written with the finest inks, on expensive parchment, and sealed with the blasted seal, such a blow to his gut?

Why had the words made him weak in his knees, and his eyes itch in irritation? Why? Why? _Why?_

He burns it, and...

_Flashes of a burning sky flame.._

_Soaring through the air, like a dance of victory,_

_Flickering.. Like a message._

_He speaks, but he does not make sound._

_He cries, but he does not shed tears._

_He is bound, but free._

_He was. But then, he was not._

Everything is so clear in a moment of time, when they show up. In collective suits, like always, like the weak animals they are; to care for appearances. But it is _not like always_. One was missing. They were in all black. _Unlike usual_, a voice, dreaded and _despised_, whispers and he nearly breaks. _He does not because he is strong_. Unlike them, unlike the Storm who is red eyed and weak and _so god damned near breaking into little pieces_. (He ignores the feelings inside him because they burn, burn, and while carnivores were the strongest, they were _all still animals_ and they knew and hated and left alone what hurt them.)

BREAKBREAKBEAK_BREAKGODDAMMIT_BREAK. He ignores it. So annoying.

"_Noioso_,"he whispers.

* * *

Haha, it was all lie, wasn't it?

Just like the ones he told, fabricated of threads of deceiving smiles and heterogeneous eyes. But then he feels the paper through his medium, _and it all felt so real_. The parchment in his hand, loopy letters... Black, black ink. _Death_.

Haha, but this was what he wanted, right? The destruction of this world..? Without their leader, without their leader, useless. So... Why?

_Why do your smiles feel so empty?_

_Why do these dreams (memoriesmemoriesmemories) make me feel this..?_

_Is this my own punishment?_

_To see you, but to never feel you?_

_(Oh, but he never had.)_

_To hear you, but to never understand?_

_(Not when you spoke such cryptic words...)_

_To want to be free, only to regret it?_

_(For once, he does not wish to be free. Not when it meant to be real.)_

This was his punishment. This burning desire. He watches them come for her. When they came, she cried. _She cried_. (He would've held them both in a warm embrace of awkward arms and quiet acceptance). _He isn't here anymore_. And there is no one else to help them, because they are all too broken to dance.

_Eyes were the window to the soul._

They were all so broken, even a week after his death. Pathetic... So pathetic. He was not like them; he was strong. So he recedes, and goes back to his world. Where he still had everything.

But for once, he does not wish to be free, not when it meant papers telling of death and worlds without skies.

Pathetic.

* * *

He would have cried. He would have preferred something simpler. They knew. Because it was their jobs to know.

He would have also comforted them. The crying, _pathetic_, family (A weak protest: "You're family, too!"). They were strong, like kings, like pillars. But every pillar had to collapse sometime. But not today. Never on this day.

_Then, with a sudden moment of lucidness, they both realized. He was dead. Dead. DeadDeadDeadDead._

"Dead," they whispered synonymously, and for once, don't care. Because he was dead, gone. And no matter what type of scheme, no matter what illusion, no matter what reassuring " it'll be alright" is uttered, it won't change the crushing truth that _he was dead_.

_One still heart, two broken ones. Five mourning. _

* * *

A/N: Mmph.

Translation:

Noioso - Annoying


End file.
